


History only you and I could write

by VeronicaFerCard



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaFerCard/pseuds/VeronicaFerCard
Summary: Steve has never believed in people being half of themselves without each other, but he does think a part of his heart has been reserved for Bucky from the moment they met, and it was his even when Steve had thought he was gone.After two years of search, Steve finally finds Bucky on Christmas Eve.





	History only you and I could write

**Author's Note:**

> Set after The Winter Soldier, and basically ignoring everything that came after that. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!  
> Title from: We're Still Here by Sleeping at last.

It has taken him two years of research. Two years of dead ends, of sleeping -- or at least trying to -- at cheap motels, two years of thinking he was out of his mind, that he had imagined it all. If it hadn’t been for Sam, for Nat, for whatever was left of SHIELD and the wreckage in and out of his life, Steve might have thought he had gone crazy at last.

But he is here now. After crossing almost half the world looking for Bucky, Steve is here now, in Bucharest, on Christmas Eve, in front of a simple wooden door with its faded flaking red paint Nat’s intel pointed as Bucky’s hiding place.

Faced with the enormity of what might be on the other side, he knocks.

He waits. He is pretty sure Bucky knows that it’s him. It’s not the first time Steve’s been around the building, though only now he had the guts to come inside. He hasn’t seen Bucky yet, so there is a change this is another dead-end, there is also a change Bucky has already up and left once he realized Steve was on his tail, but no, Steve’s gut has been telling him this it. This is Bucky’s home, so it’s his move now.

The door opens. Steve’s breath gets caught halfway out before he can even see the person on the other side.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says quietly, releasing the rest of the air from his lungs.

As Bucky silently stares, Steve takes the opportunity to study him. His hair is shorter, similar to how he used to keep it, but with today’s style. He is unshaved but his beard is well kept. His clothes seem comfortable, old, but clean. Something akin to relief washes over Steve. Bucky’s been taking care of himself.  

Bucky’s alive.

Bucky’s glaring at him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, not angry, but not welcoming either. 

For all the time Steve has spent looking for him, now that he is faced with it, he can’t find an answer to give Bucky. So he summons a smile and all the confidence he can muster to say, “Where are manners? You’re not gonna invite me in?” And maybe it surprises Bucky enough that he actually does step away to let Steve in. “I’ve been looking for you,” Steve says as he takes in the one-bedroom apartment. Everything but the bathroom is in sight, which is understandable, knowing what Bucky’s been through. 

There are not a lot of things around -- a mattress on the floor, a few boxes, a stack of books against the wall, and some kitchen appliance on the kitchenette behind the counter, which separates it from the rest of the room -- but it’s neat, organized the same way Bucky would have done, if this was 1939. He cares about this place. It _ is  _ home.

“I know,” Bucky says, softly closing the door, “I wish you’d stop.”

Steve turns to look at him. “Well, now that I’ve found you--”

“You don’t know what you’ve found,” Bucky snaps. He closes his eyes for a split second as he takes in a lungful of air. Steve doesn’t want to read too much into it, he doesn’t want to let his expectations take over him, but he can’t help it. Bucky’s been mistreated for seven decades, so trust definitely doesn’t come easy for him these days. And the fact that he is comfortable enough to close his eyes -- even for a second -- around Steve? That has got to mean something. Steve chooses to believe it does, even if Bucky doesn’t seem to share the sentiment just yet. “You don’t know me,” he tells Steve.

“Of course I do,” Steve presses. “I told you, I’ve known you my whole life.”

Bucky watches him for a couple of seconds before sighing softly. It’s nothing new, Steve has always had that kind of effect on him. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Steve carefully considers his next words. He doesn’t want to spook Bucky by being too intense too soon. He has no idea what Bucky’s state of mind is, or how much he remembers, and the last thing Steve wants is to overwhelm him. By the time he opens his mouth, he is sure he’s landed on somewhat safe ground, something he can ask of Buck without demanding anything of him. “Just -- talk to me. Hear me out. A conversation, that’s all I want.”

“What if I don’t wanna talk to you?” Bucky challenges, which only serves to empower Steve. Bucky has got to know that. Somewhere in there, he must know Steve is incapable of backing down. 

“Then you just listen.” 

“You don’t give up, do you?” Bucky asks, looking pretty much resigned. Again, nothing new.

“Nope,” Steve tells him with a smirk. “If you don’t remember anything about me you should at least know that. Might save you some trouble.” He immediately feels like an asshole for saying it, but it’s been two years -- hell, it’s been over seventy -- and even though he knows Bucky has been through hell and back, Steve won’t walk on eggshells around him. 

Bucky clearly doesn’t want that either because he doesn’t even acknowledge the remark. He spends a long time staring at the floor beneath his feet before finally bringing his eyes back up to face Steve. “Listen,” he starts after a sigh, “I’m not him, alright. I’m not the guy you’re looking for. I’m not your Bucky.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”

“God, you’re stubborn.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Steve fires back. Bucky glares at him, unimpressed, and Steve puts his hands on his hips, changing his weight from on leg to the other. “It doesn’t mean I’m not right. You know me, Buck. At least a little. And if you know me, then you’re  _ you _ .”

“I-- can’t tell if that’s optimism or stupidity coming out of you--” Throwing his head back a little, Steve barks out a short laugh. “Guess it’s both,” Bucky continues. 

The smile slips off Steve’s face. “You saved me, Buck”, he insists. “You were supposed to kill me, but you made a different call. You pulled me from the river.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” Bucky says softly, and, for some reason he can’t tell, Steve knows he is lying.

“You did it cos you remembered me,” Steve tells him, as hope -- inadvertently -- flourishes inside of him once more. “Some part of you did.” He takes a step towards Bucky.

Bucky immediately takes one away from him. He opens and closes his fists as if he was making an effort not to move his arms, not to bring them up, to either punch Steve or maybe cross them over his chest to try and close himself off, to protect himself. Steve can’t tell which, but he holds his ground and makes a mental note not to make another sudden move.

“Will you at least listen to me,” he asks from where he is, “please?”

Bucky nods without looking at him, but his hands relax at his sides.

Steve searches his head for where to start. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to  _ ask _ , but Bucky is already making an effort to hear him, he can’t turn this into an interrogation. He licks his lips -- a nervous habit that’s always been more Bucky than him,  which ended up rubbing off on Steve over the years -- and finally settles on what to say. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he begins. “Do you-- d’ya remember our last one, before the War I mean?” Steve scratches the growing stubble on his jaw and hurriedly adds, “It’s okay if you don’t.” Bucky still doesn’t look at him. If he remembers anything at all he is not showing it. “I can tell you how it went if you want--” He leaves it open, leaving the ball on Bucky’s court. Bucky shrugs. Steve is sure not about to take his silence as consent. “That a yes?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grunts, throwing Steve an annoyed glance.

“Well, mind if I sit? This might take a while.”

Bucky looks up at the ceiling like he is asking for divine intervention. Steve bites the inside of his cheeks to suppress a smile. Seventy years and he still has the power of making Bucky instantly regret his decisions. 

Then, after Bucky begrudgingly offers him to take a seat on the floor against the wall -- he doesn’t own any chairs -- Steve begins. “That was a special winter.” He has to look up since Bucky didn’t take up his own offer to sit down. “For the first time in years, I wasn’t dying of anything,  and we both had jobs. We put money together all month, we both said it was to buy something for your sisters -- you had three -- but Alice was married and lived in Chicago, and the twins were young enough they didn’t need much of anything. To be honest, I thought you were gonna give your part to your folks, but they were doing alright too, thank God.” Steve lowers his head and starts to pick invisible lint off his jeans. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I didn’t know your real reason, but I had one of my own. You see, by then ma was already gone and you were -- you were all I had.”

He lets that sink in for a moment. From where he is, Steve can’t quite read Bucky’s expression. But, just in case this is all too much too soon, he’ll give Bucky some time. 

Once it’s clear Bucky won’t say anything, Steve resumes his story. “Well,” he chuckles, “ turns out we had the exact same goal in mind. You gotta believe me when I say we know each other better than anyone--”

“Grand Canyon.”

Steve blinks up at him. It had first been only Bucky’s dream, but, after years of seeing his eyes shine with the idea, Steve warmed up to it, and it became his dream too. “You remember.” His voice is so quiet he wouldn’t be surprised if Bucky didn’t hear him. But he does, of course, he does because they match in more ways than Steve could count, and so Bucky’s hearing must be just as good as his.

“We never made it,” Bucky says, and Steve’s heart wants to beat all the way up to him. He shakes his head and waits, and hopes that there is more to the memory. “We had to move, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Steve confirms.  _ God _ , perhaps this wasn’t the best story to tell right now. “We had to give all of it to the landlord because of the short notice. We basically had to move in overnight.” Steve doesn’t like to admit it, but he had been so afraid that night, he spent all of it half expecting they would be jumped on their way to the new apartment. “Something happened, we couldn’t stay where we were.”

“I know.”

Steve is pretty sure he has stopped breathing. “You do?” He doesn’t dare hope, he can’t afford it, not right now, because if this is not what Steve thinks it is, then his heart is going to shatter right here on Bucky’s floor, and Steve doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to pick up the pieces.  “Buck--”

“The neighbor saw me kissing you.” It hadn’t even been on the mouth. It was just a forehead kiss, but if she had said anything to anyone in the building, they would have beaten the two of them to death. “She said we would burn in hell.” Bucky’s shoulders drop with a heavy sigh as he finally sinks to the floor. He sits cross-legged in front of Steve. “Fuck, I think she cursed us.” Steve can’t help but agree. He stares at Bucky not knowing what to say. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s just a memory, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course, it does!” Steve feels like he’s been jolted with electricity. “It means you know who  _ we  _ are!” He blinks hard against the sudden sting on his eyes. “Unless  _ that  _ doesn’t mean anything to you--” And why would it? Steve is being selfish, he didn’t come here to check if Bucky still has feelings for him, he shouldn’t have mentioned it.

Bucky closes his eyes. This time he doesn’t rush to reopen them, instead, he keeps them tightly shut as he speaks. “Why do you think I’ve kept my distance?  _ Fuck _ , Steve, why can’t you just let things go?” He opens his eyes, and the hurt in them hits Steve like a sucker punch. “I almost killed you. I look at you and I can’t unsee what I did, all of it. Whatever you think you still feel for me, I don’t deserve it. You should give it to someone who does.”

A couple of tears spill from Steve’s eyes but, at the moment, he doesn’t have it in him to care, not when there is a war raging inside, half of him is elated Bucky remembers so much, but the other half wants to be angry at him. And, as it often happens to Steve, the latter wins. 

“Oh, screw you, Buck.” He sniffles and roughly runs the heel on his hands under his eyes. “That’s not your decision to make. I’ve loved you my whole life, you can’t just ask me to stop now.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Some things are not worth it.”

“You are!” Slowly, Steve stretches a hand towards Bucky. “If you’re not gonna fight for yourself,” he says softly, “let me.” Bucky shoots him a desperate, pleading look, and Steve holds his ground. “I know what happened to you, I mean, I’m sure I don’t know everything, but I know you’ve been suffering all these years, Buck. If you’d let me, I wanna help--”

“You can’t just kiss this better, Steve.” 

It’s the second time Bucky has used Steve’s name in seventy years and damn it if it doesn’t do something to him. It feels different coming out of his mouth as if it holds some kind of special meaning. And it’s like a revelation, even though Steve himself has never forgotten, a reminder of how much Steve loves the man in front of him, how much he has always loved him, ever since they were kids. Steve has never believed in people being half of themselves without each other, but he does think a part of his heart has been reserved for Bucky from the moment they met, and it was his even when Steve had thought he was gone. It would be his even if they had never touched one another.

“That’s not why I’m here, I could go without kissing you for the rest of my life if it meant we could still be friends.” Steve watches the struggle behind Bucky’s eyes as he looks from Steve’s face to his outstretched hand. “You never tried to fix me and I won’t do that to you either. All I want is a chance to be here for you. I’m your friend, even if you don’t want to be mine.”

Bucky licks his lips. He frowns at Steve’s palm. “There’s so much still missing from here,” he mutters, poking the side of his head with a metal finger. His eyes go back up to Steve’s face. “Not you, though. Your voice is the oldest memory I got.” He shakes his head like he is trying to sort things out inside. “Sometimes I dream and you’re small.” Steve opens his mouth, Bucky doesn’t give him an opening. “Yeah, I know about the serum.”

“It didn’t change my voice.”

“I’m glad it didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because, since Italy, it’s one thing that keeps bringing me back from hell,” Bucky confesses.

Steve remembers walking in on Bucky mumbling his name and serial number, the first time Zola had him.  _ The first time. _ Steve doesn’t deserve this. If he had done his job right, there wouldn’t have a second time. He doesn’t get to be a savior when he is the one who made this happen when he failed his best friend. Remorse leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He should stop bothering Bucky. He starts to retrieve his hand, but, before he can get too far, Bucky takes a hold of it.

“Do you mean it?”

“What?”

“Whatever you know, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m damaged goods, Stevie. I’m far from the man you knew. So when you say you wanna be here for me, you gotta know--”

“I mean every single word,” Steve hastily assures him. He tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand. “You’ve taken care of me our whole lives.” He offers Bucky a shy grin. “It’s about time you let me do the same.”

Bucky inhales sharply. “I really did love you my whole life, didn’t I?”

“I can’t speak for you, Buck, but I know I have.” Steve tries to put a smile on his face. He is not sure he succeeds now. “I like to think you did too.” There were times, when they were younger, where Steve used to get angry at the world, and in some of those times, he would even resent Bucky for being healthier, bigger, stronger, for having a family. On those rare occasions, Steve wondered if Bucky was only his friend out of pity. He never once voiced those thoughts, but Bucky would always get that something was off, and then he would proceed to hug Steve just a little tighter or kiss Steve’s forehead whenever he could get away with it. Every time Steve had doubts, Bucky would wordlessly find a way to remind him. So yeah, he does think he was loved.

Joyful Christmas carol starts to filter through the walls from somewhere down the street. Steve doesn’t understand the lyrics, but he knows the melody. It warms him a little. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “that sounds right.” He holds Steve’s gaze for a long time. Steve can’t tell what he is looking for but hopes Bucky finds it, whatever it is.

A new song from the choir outside fills the silence between them. If Steve closed his eyes now, he is sure he would be able to smell Bucky’s mom's cooking and hear his own ma’s voice talking to her in the kitchen. The song sends him right back to the thirties and, maybe it’s because he is with Bucky, but the memory doesn’t hurt like others usually do.

“I made you a promise when your mother died,” Bucky says at last. Perhaps the song makes him remember too. “I’m with you--”

“To the end of the line,” Steve completes alongside him. “It goes both ways.”

“But I said if first.”

Steve shakes his head, amused. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” In a swift movement, Bucky changes his grip from Steve’s hand to his forearm and pulls Steve towards him. Steve offers no resistance, he goes willingly until Bucky puts his hands on his shoulders to keep Steve where he wants, an inch away. Bucky’s metal hand comes up to cup his face, and Steve sucks in a breath. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “I made you a promise,” Bucky repeats. “And,  _ Lord _ , I don’t know myself, but you were right, I know  _ you _ . I wanna believe you so fucking bad.” 

Steve opens his eyes. It’s hard to focus on Bucky’s face so he puts some distance between them to see him better. Bucky’s hands fall to his side and Steve takes them in his. “So do it. I know this is a lot to ask, but trust me, Buck. Let me be whoever you need me to so you can find yourself.”

“To the end of the line?” Bucky asks, his voice is small but so damn hopeful, it nearly breaks Steve’s heart. 

And Steve can’t contain himself, he surges slowly forward and, before he even fully realizes he is doing it,  plants a quick kiss on Bucky’s hairline. “To the end of the line,” Steve confirms. Bucky swallows and nods, his big blue-gray eyes never leave Steve’s.

Outside, the carols are suddenly drowned by the sound of church bells.

“Merry Christmas, Buck.”

Steve smiles. He is not waiting for one in return, but to his complete surprise, he gets it. It’s the best present he’s ever received.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> The second song Steve hears it's "I'll be home for Christmas" (sort of like this version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na4DGmOnV4g) which I found out is about the soldiers in WWII wanting to be home for Christmas, so super fitting, and that's why Steve (and Bucky) thinks of home when he hears it.  
> Comments are like the presents under the tree and I'll be eagerly awaiting to open them.


End file.
